


The Apocalypse Makes for Strange Bedfellows

by CatHeights



Series: No Emerald City [2]
Category: Oz - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he traverses a landscape filled with death and destruction on an almost biblical scale, Mukada wonders if he has the strength to pass this test or if he's been forsaken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apocalypse Makes for Strange Bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions from the Season 4 episode, _A Word to the Wise_, are included. This chapter details how some of the other characters in the Oz universe met their end. Remember, this is a horror story, so dark themes ahead.

_  
"Ray"_

_Her voice sounded gravely. When he looked up, Sister Pete's left eye was twitching, and tears poured down her cheeks._

_"I think it's happening to me."_

_"No, Pete, you're just tired." Mukada stood and came out from behind his desk. He took her hand. _

_Sister Pete tried to pull away. "No, I'm not safe."_

_The hand in his grew stiff, and the fingers curved, digging into his hand like claws. A guttural sound issued from Sister Pete's throat. She knocked him to the floor, her teeth gnashing as she tried to bite his arm. He strained to hold her off._

_"Lord, please give me strength. No, Pete. No!" _

_Her strength was like that of someone demon possessed, an uncontainable fury. His arm shook, and she pressed further onto him. Her teeth sliced his skin._

Mukada bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding and one arm clutched against his chest as he rocked. Even though it hadn't happened like that, it had seemed so real, because that was how events could have gone. Reality had been kinder than his nightmares, but it had hurt just as much.

_"Ray, I'm not coming in today."_

_"Ok." Violent knots twisted his stomach, and he tried to deny what this call meant. "I'll see you tomorrow."_

_"No you won't. It's my time. Not exactly the way I would have chosen to go, but God has his reasons."_

_"Yes." His response was automatic because his mind couldn't wrap around this call and what it meant._

_"Will you pray with me?"_

_"Of course." He started and she joined in. "Our Father, who art in Heaven."_

They had made it through two repetitions of the Our Father, before he had heard the phone drop and then sounds like those an animal would make and finally nothing. The next day he'd seen on the news that the National Guard had marked Pete's convent as infected. The reporter said the uninfected had been evacuated until measures had been taken to deal with the infected. Mukada hadn't needed nor wanted any additional details.

He pushed aside the covers, fingers sliding over the tan striped duvet cover as he got out of the bed. Mukada knelt on the floor and tried to pray, but the words wouldn't come. The Our Father froze on the tip of his tongue. What was the point? God couldn't be listening because if he was surely he wouldn't have allowed this to happen. No, that was wrong and he knew it. God had his reasons, and he had to keep the faith. Mukada took a deep breath to center himself and tried a different approach.

>   
>  _Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thine intercession was left unaided._   
> 

He couldn't complete the prayer. The silence devoured the words because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't believe there would be any intercession. There was no peace in the darkness, no peace to be found anywhere. Behind his closed eyelids, Mukada saw flashes of the last church he'd entered. Tobias had been injured, the bus had run out of gas, and they needed a place to rest for the night. The church had been one of the few undamaged buildings in that area. As they had approached Our Lady of Fatima, Mukada had felt a rush of hope. It could be no coincidence that in their hour of need, they had come upon a church. Here would be respite, even if only temporary, from the terror and madness.

He couldn't have been more wrong. The church had looked like a battlefield. The dead were strewn across the pews, collapsed in the aisles and had even fallen upon the altar. No respite had been given to those seeking comfort in the Lord's house. No one had spoken. Some things were too shocking for words. As they'd searched for shelter, the only sound had been Tobias's labored breathing. Mukada thought that was the moment when it had really sunk in that the world had changed irrevocably.

After that day, Mukada had noticed a change in Ryan's attitude toward him. While he'd gone along with Miguel's insistence on Mukada traveling with them, his gaze had been cold and distrusting. The priest knew Ryan was expecting him to turn them into the authorities the first chance he got. If the world had kept any semblance of order, maybe that would have been a risk. Once the reality that authority no longer existed hit them all, Ryan had been as easy to deal with as Miguel. It was a small blessing.

With a sigh, Mukada got to his feet. He put on his shoes. There was no need to dress as they all slept in their clothes these days, having learned early on that it was best to be prepared to flee at a moment's notice. The walls along the stairway were lined with pictures, and Mukada paused to look a them. It looked like the family had had three children, all boys. One large frame held pictures of various vacations. In one snapshot, one of the brothers had his arm around a younger brother and had obviously just messed up his hair. Mukada smiled at such an obvious older sibling action. The smile quickly faded, and he bowed his head.

_Lord, why have you forsaken us?_

This family was gone, and the transformation must have occurred early on, as the house had a National Guard infection mark on the front door. They'd started choosing houses with that mark to spend the night as there was less of a chance of finding bodies. Mukada continued down the stairs, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

The stairs opened into a large living room, and through the bay window, he could see the sun was beginning to rise. He walked over to the window and sat beside it to watch. It was a beautiful sunrise, the sky illuminating with color, brilliant pinks and oranges. Mukada waited for the grace of the sight to fill him with peace, but time passed, and he felt no change. He couldn't help feeling he was just one man who was all alone and lost.

With a sigh, he stood and his gaze fell on more photos decorating the mantle piece. Despite knowing it would be better not to look at those images of happier times, he was drawn forward. A thick layer of dust covered each photo and that bothered him. It seemed wrong. He hunted down cleaning supplies and then began to carefully, reverently clean each picture and finally the mantle. Satisfaction filled him when he was done. That looked much better.

The urge to tackle something else, something he could fix, heal, made him move on to the kitchen where he found something to mop up the dirt they'd tracked into the kitchen. The sound of Miguel's voice startled him.

"Father, what are you doing?"

"I'm cleaning."

"Ok, um, but we're not staying."

"Yes. I know." Mukada didn't looked up. He just kept to the task at hand. Each push of his hands cleaned away the dirt, uncovered the white shine of the floor. The simplicity was beautiful. It was the closest he had been able to come to a meditative state for weeks. Suddenly there was a hand on his wrist. He yanked away. The mop clattered to the floor as his feet slid.

"Woah, easy."

Mukada blinked. "Miguel." He'd forgotten the other man was there. "Sorry, I'm tired."

"Come on. Let's go sit down."

"Ok." He followed Miguel back into the living room and sat next to him on the couch. His eyes immediately fell on the mantel lined with pictures, but he quickly glanced away.

"Father, are you all right?"

"No." Mukada looked at his hands. "And you should call me Ray."

"Nah, that don't sound right."

"Why not? It's my name, what my friends call me. And I would hope after everything you and I have been through together, you'd consider me a friend."

"Yeah I do, but that ain't why you're asking me to call you Ray. Is it?"

He looked over at Miguel surprised by his perceptiveness. "No." He didn't elaborate as he felt sharing his doubts would be an even greater failure.

Miguel touched his arm. "Hey, it's gonna be all right."

Mukada laughed and shook his head in disbelief. He felt his control shatter. "You don't believe that. How could you believe that?"

"Well, I do believe it." Miguel shrugged. "I ain't no religious scholar. And I don't know shit about anything that would explain why God would let all this happen, but I gotta believe that you, me, Ryan," Miguel's voice dipped lower as he said O'Reily's name and he paused before he continued, "Beecher, Keller, we all survived for a reason."

"What reason?" Mukada's voice was a whisper.

"Sorry, Father, I don't know. I ain't saying this ain't really fucking bad, but for once, I'm not laying down and giving up. I was sure I was gonna spend the rest of my days in a little tiny room, but now each day I see the sky. That has to count for something. It has to mean something."

Mukada nodded. Of course Miguel would see things differently as his greatest fear was spending his days locked away. Perhaps how one survived the fall of civilization depended on how much you had lost and how that loss fed into your fears. He wished he could be like Miguel and have hope in just the sight of the sky, but the view of the wide sky only made the emptiness within him feel more immense. For his greatest fear was being alone, not even his faith to offer him comfort.

"You're not alone."

"What?" Mukada stuttered. He hadn't said any of that aloud.

"I don't know. It's just, well, you and me, we've got a lot of history, right?"

"Yes, we do."

"So you've been there for me, when no one else was, and well, you should know, for what it's worth, I've got your back."

Gratitude filled him and for a second he couldn't respond. "It means a lot Miguel. I'd be dead without you." He looked up, voice stronger. "You're a good friend."

"Cool." Miguel smiled. "But I'm not calling you Ray."

Mukada laughed. "Okay, that's fine."

The smile faded, and Miguel's gaze turned intense, reminding Mukada of how much emotion the man carried beneath his skin. "I know it's gonna be hard, and we're gonna see a lot of really bad things. I mean shit what we've seen so far has been awful. But when we get where we're going, it's gonna be better. You'll see."

"Where we're going?" Mukada frowned. He hadn't realized they had a destination.

"Yeah, you didn't think we were wandering with no plan, did you?

"Sorry, I did. So where are we heading?"

"To the country. Ain't you seen all those end of the world movies? That's where you go, where less people live, and then you live off the land. I know they're just movies, but Ryan and I discussed it, and you know, it makes sense. I've been out this way before. Once you get past the burbs, it's real nice, lots of land. It'll be good. You'll see."

Mukada smiled weakly. "I'm glad someone has a plan."

He wanted to ask Miguel about Ryan, but he didn't want to pry. While he had tried to give them their privacy—he owed them that much and more—he'd seen glimpses of an affection that went beyond friendship. Mukada recalled last night as he'd come up the stairs seeing Miguel leaning into Ryan, mouth close to his ear, and then he'd sworn he'd seen Ryan take Miguel's hand as they entered the bedroom. He wasn't sure why they were being so circumspect with their relationship and hoped it had nothing to do with him. He doubted Ryan would care, so that would mean it was Miguel. Surely Miguel knew him better than to think he'd judge.

How egotistical of him to think it had anything to do with him. Cardinal Labgut had once said his ego was his downfall. He briefly wondered what became of the Cardinal, but then decided he really didn't want to know. Whatever Ryan and Miguel's reason for being discreet, it was their own business. Regardless, he was sure Ryan was partly responsible for Miguel's positive outlook, and he was glad that for once Miguel seemed to have found a bit of happiness. Even mired in his own misery, he wouldn't begrudge Miguel any joy he might find. No, if he could pray, he would pray that such a thing would last and sustain Miguel throughout this journey wherever it led them.

Miguel chuckled and grinned at him. "Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing O'Reily try to milk a cow."

The mental image that produced made Mukada laugh so hard that tears poured down his face. It felt good to laugh like that.

"You sound like a bunch of girls. What's so funny?"

"You trying to milk a cow," Miguel said, his voice choked with laughter.

"What the fuck?" Ryan looked at them like they'd lost their minds. "When's the last time you saw a cow? And you're crazy if you'd think I'd be milking one."

"Someday." Miguel gave Mukada a sly look which made the priest laugh some more.

"Whatever. Starvation has melted your brains. I'm going to raid this place's can goods for breakfast. You coming?"

"Sure." Miguel stood. "You're no fun when you're hungry."

"You know you're a pain in the ass, right?" With a shake of his head, Ryan headed toward the kitchen.

A smile on his face, Miguel started to follow, but Mukada halted him. "Miguel. Thanks."

"Anytime, Father."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Keller greeted them by holding up a gas container. "Found this in the garage, and when I went for a walk last night, I found three cars that still had a little gas in the tank, so I siphoned it. Figured we could eat up some more road with our ride."

Ryan opened his mouth, and by his expression, Mukada was sure he'd been about to ask Keller if he was crazy for wandering around at night. However, at the moment, Beecher walked out of the house. He glared at Keller, but was ignored, and the anger deflated. For a second he looked so lost that Mukada almost said something. In an instant, though, the cold, distant Beecher that had been traveling with them returned. This man was unreachable.

"You're assuming the SUV is still there and hasn't been rolled by zombies." Ryan had obviously decided to step around the issue of why Keller had taken a late night stroll.

Mukada thought it was a stupid and dangerous move on Keller's part, but he wasn't about to say that aloud. He avoided interacting with Keller as much as he could.

Keller shrugged. "You got somewhere to be? We only left her about a block up. You wouldn't want to waste my labor, would you?"

Ryan laughed. "No. Lead the way K-boy. Ain't like I really want to walk through this pit. It's been quiet on the zombie front lately anyway. Maybe the last of them have finally eaten their last supper."

Mukada fell into step beside Miguel who gave him a look and subtly indicated Beecher. He shrugged. Beecher had been impossible to reach, and Mukada wasn't sure if he even really knew the man anymore. Tobias had barely climbed himself out of the pit of despair that Gary's murder had thrown him into when all of this had happened. Once Mukada would have tried everything and anything to help, but now he didn't know how. How do you offer comfort to a man who had witnessed his daughter turn? He still heard Mrs. Beecher's screams in his nightmares and can only imagine what Tobias's nightmares were like.

Inadequacy had replaced his ego. He was useless in this world, nothing but a tolerated burden. Mukada yearned for the days when he believed he could help and was driven by that desire, for the days when he knew how to center himself in God's grace.

"Wonder what caused that?" Miguel stopped to stare at the wreckage across from them.

If Miguel hadn't pointed it out, he probably would have walked by without a thought. It looked like a bomb had gone off completely demolishing one house and sheering off the side of a second. How had he gotten to the point where such a sight had become commonplace to him?

"Gas explosion," Keller said. "Ain't no one to stop the leaks, and no one to smell them. That sort of thing is bound to start happening a lot."

"Fuck." Ryan ran a hand over his eyes. "Whole shit load of houses have natural gas, and that gas is just going to keep on flowing. We've been sleeping in fucking explosion zones."

Keller shrugged. "We'd probably smell it."

"Unless the leak was in the house next door."

Keller grinned and Mukada shivered. "Then we'd be dead." He looked as if the thought wasn't the least bit disturbing.

"Too bad we don't have tents," Beecher said. "We could sleep beneath the stars."

Mukada noticed Beecher stared at Keller as he spoke, and that his voice had taken on a pleading tone at the end. Keller seemed unmoved, and Beecher glared. Traveling with those two men was walking beside a potential explosion.

Ryan was unimpressed with the suggestion. "This ain't no romance novel. Sleep under the stars? Do I look like the camping type? It's a damn stupid idea to have only flimsy material between you and a zombie horde."

Miguel touched Ryan's elbow, a brief grasp, to get his attention. "You know it's not actually a bad idea."

"You think we should go fucking camping?"

"Hear me out, man. I'm saying there's going to come a night where there ain't any good options to spend the night, and we'd be better off if we had our own options." Miguel held out his hand to cut off Ryan's response. "And I happen to know there's a sporting goods store not too far from here. I got a few things there the last time I was out. Place isn't right off the highway, kinda tucked away, so it may not have been sacked."

"I think it's worth seeing if the store still has any supplies." Mukada didn't know what weight his opinion would hold, but he felt he should give Miguel the support.

"Sounds like a plan." Keller shrugged. "I don't care where we sleep, but I know wherever it is I won't be doing any stargazing. I ain't no fucking tinkerbell wishing on stars." The last was said with a pointed gaze at Beecher, who snorted and glared, but when Keller started walking taking the lead, Beecher followed close behind.

"Unfucking believable." Ryan spoke softly. "End of the goddamn world, and they're still doing their self-centered destructive dance."

Miguel shrugged. "You expected something different."

"Nah, but some days I just want to let them go their own fucking way."

Mukada nodded. How nice would it be if it was just the three of them? He stopped that line of thought, horrified. That would be wishing a death sentence on Beecher and Keller. No, he didn't want that. It was just hard traveling with Keller.

_You fucking hack in black._

In Oz, he'd been shocked by Keller's confession that he'd killed those men, and shaken by the force of Keller's anger when he'd refused to offer him forgiveness, but all of that hadn't stopped him from asking Keller to intercede to help Beecher. It hadn't prevented him from believing Keller loved Tobias. But handling Keller within the walls of Oz had been so much easier. Out here Keller seemed larger than life, a darkness barely contained within the confines of a human body, as if the devil himself traveled with them.

The rational part of Mukada knew that most of his fear was transference. Keller wasn't the ultimate evil, but in a nightmare landscape beyond comprehension, it was far easier to focus the fear on one individual. However, that understanding didn't prevent the shudder when Keller's gaze fell on him. Perhaps this fear was too primal, too base, to be controlled by rational thought. It was what happened when you were forsaken.

Not only did they find the SUV exactly where they had left it, but it was in the same condition they had left it. There was no sign of any other humans having passed by it. There was an uncomfortable silence as they poured the gas into the car and resumed their journey. Miguel drove, and Mukada once again squeezed himself into the third row, tucked into the corner. Except, this time he had company. Beecher slid in next to him. Keller ignored the slight, sitting in front of them without comment. Mukada could see Ryan and Miguel exchanging a look, and he had the fleeting guilty thought again of how much easier it would be with just the three of them.

It took barely 15 minutes to get to the store. Miguel had a knack for finding the right roads that were still passable, and like he had said the store was isolated. As they stood in the parking lot, Mukada felt a bit surreal, as all around them were woods and then this store that simply looked like it had been closed for holiday. No marks of violence were apparent. It felt like an oasis, which made it all the more unsettling when the efforts to break in began.

Ryan, Miguel, Keller and even Beecher were using the rifles to break through the store's windows, and doing it with such glee that Mukada felt his stomach turn. Here had been one place untouched by ruin, and they were ruining it.

_Ray, don't you think you're being a bit ridiculous? _

_Yes, you're right, Pete. No one is coming back. What does it matter?_

Sometimes he missed her so much it hurt. He frequently heard Pete's voice in his head, a reminder of camaraderie and sanity. It always left him feeling incredibly lonely. When he looked up he found Keller staring at him with an expression he couldn't fathom, something intense and calculating. Mukada tamped down on the urge to flee. The panic subsided to a dull thrum when Keller turned his gaze back to Beecher, and then it was replaced by surprise.

Beecher was smashing the end of his rifle into another window and then clearing out glass with wild abandon, letting it fly and shatter around him, all the while singing something that sounded like a lullaby. The expression on Keller's face as he watched this display was one Mukada had no trouble relating to—despair.

"Yo, Beecher. We're good. You don't need to make crushed glass out of every window," Ryan said.

Mukada realized that Keller wasn't the only one staring at Beecher. They all were, but Beecher seemed unconcerned by the attention. He shrugged and then walked through the broken window, seeming not to notice the way his arm snagged against the broken glass on the windowsill or the blood that started to flow from the slice.

Ryan exchanged a look with Keller, who tightened his jaw and then followed Beecher inside, although he took much more caution in avoiding the broken glass. The others followed, Miguel catching his arm and steadying him when his foot twisted on some of the glass shards.

"Ok, Father?"

"Yes, thanks."

Miguel squeezed his shoulder and then addressed the group. "We ain't gonna have that car for long. So we gotta be smart about what we pack."

"And after hours and hours of walking, whatever you're carrying is going to feel five times as heavy as when you started. Backpacking is a bitch." Beecher grinned. "My firm used to make all the associates on partner track go as part of this ridiculous team building exercise. Team building my ass. It was one more opportunity to make you understand until you make partner, you're just a fucking sherpa. But hey, look at this, that goddamn outing is now going to come in useful, as I can tell you what we should be packing. Follow me."

Beecher hummed as he continued on through the store and then began to sing. "Ring around the rosey. A pocketful of posies. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down."

Keller followed immediately. Whatever the earlier argument the two had shared seemed to have been forgotten, as Mukada saw Keller rest a hand lightly on Beecher's back as they walked. The sight stirred a memory.

_Father. I need your help. I need to see Beecher._

_He's not ready to see people. Chris, he's not rational._

_I don't care. He needs me. If anyone can reach him, it's me. You know that. It wasn't that long ago you asked me to save him, told me it only takes one man to change things. Well I forgive him. None of the crap before matters. I want to help him. Let me. You gotta let me._

He'd forgotten how moved he'd been by Keller's plea at the time. Not to mention leaving Beecher in a straightjacket in solitary after witnessing the horrible deaths of his daughter and mother had seemed beyond cruel, but they'd had no drugs on hand to calm him down, as the psych ward had been damaged weeks ago. He and Pete had argued Chris's case, argued the humanity of it for Beecher, and Leo had given in and granted the exception.

_Keller stepped into the cell. "Hey, Toby"_

_Beecher didn't respond. He remained curled in the corner, muttering to himself._

_"Toby?" Keller sat down. "Come on, I know you can hear me. All right, you ain't ready to talk yet. That's okay. I'll do the talking."_

When Mukada had returned an hour later, Keller was still talking, but now Tobias's head rested against his chest. The straightjacket had remained in place as Keller had been told if he removed it that would be it as far as visiting privileges. It had taken a week's worth of visits, but Keller had managed to bring Beecher back to a semblance of sanity. It had been enough to get him released back to Em City with Keller as his roommate of course.

Mukada knew the Keller he traveled with was that same man who had showed such compassion and love, but he couldn't reconcile that memory with the memory of his being trapped beneath a desk with mutants swarming the prison and Keller wanting to leave him there.

_And what makes you think he's not gonna snitch the moment we're on the outside. He ain't one of us._

Thankfully Miguel hadn't even entertained the thought of leaving him, and Ryan and Tobias had joined him in moving the desk. And maybe when it came down to it, that's why he saw Keller as the personification of evil. Keller would have left him to that horrible fate.

Beecher remained in a maniacal mood as they moved through the store, giving orders on what they needed to find and the best brands for the lightest weight tents. Mukada decided it was best to do exactly what he said. Besides he wasn't sure half the time if Beecher was conversing with them or himself.

The store really was an island. The shelves were still stocked and neat. Except for the layer of dust it looked ready to open the next day. Until they found the body in the office, Mukada thought it may have been the one place untouched by death and violence. The poor man had shot himself in the head. He bowed his head, and thankfully this time the prayer came easily to his mind.

"Yes, it's perfectly understandable why someone would kill themselves."

Beecher's voice made his eyes fly open. The man was staring at the body and nodding, as if he was conversing with it.

"What I can't figure out is why we go on living? What sort of masochistic streak keeps one from putting a bullet in their head?"

Keller grabbed Beecher by the arm. "Come on. Ain't nothing to be accomplished here."

Beecher didn't resist, going along easily. He paused as he passed Mukada. "I often hear bullets. Do you know why I hear bullets?" He didn't wait for an answer.

_The unearthly growl sent shivers up his spine. He hadn't even had time to turn before a scream followed. The horrific sight that met his gaze was of Holly eating her grandmother's face. There was no time to save the poor woman as the next bite went right through the artery on her neck. He stood frozen. How was that possible? Human teeth shouldn't be able to do that, should they?_

_Chaos broke the room down into snapshots. Murphy dragged Beecher back and shoved him to the floor, as the guards fired round after round into what was once Holly. Beecher's haunting howls sounded to him like the cry of all humanity._  
  
"This is a big fucking problem." Ryan's voice was soft but there was no mistaking the deadly tone to it.

"Yeah." Miguel kicked at the floor and then walked away from the office heading to the end of an aisle in the opposite direction of where Beecher and Keller had headed. Mukada and Ryan followed.

"Keller asked us to give him some space, let him be with Beecher alone at night, and he'd get things under control. This ain't under fucking control." Ryan braced his hand on a shelf, squeezing as if he'd like to yank it out and throw it against something.

"Man, what's the timeline for dealing with shit like this?" Miguel blew out a breath. "He saw his daughter go down."

"It was horrible, unbelievably horrible." Mukada closed his eyes for second. "These things take time."

"No offense, Father, but this is all unbelievably horrible, and you and I ain't spouting nursery rhymes and talking about blowing our brains out." Ryan pushed away from the shelf. "We gotta be realistic maybe Beecher ain't ever going to be able to deal. Maybe it, shit, I don't know. He doesn't have a strong track record with the sane bus, ok?"

"You cut off Beecher, Keller goes with him. You know that O'Reily."

"Yeah, I know it. And as much as I'd like to have Keller's firepower on our side, having Beecher around's a liability."

Mukada's stomach twisted. As much as he had reflected earlier on how much easier it would be for just the three of them to go their own way, the thought of actually doing so made him ill. His voice shook as he spoke. "We can't do that to Tobias, leave him out here alone. He just needs more time." No, he wouldn't do that to someone else, leave them.

"He's had plenty of time." Ryan shook his head. "If he starts pulling that crazy shit when we meet up with someone, he could be risking all our lives."

"We ain't exactly met up with a lot of people. And while Beecher's been loco, he hasn't been violent." Miguel amended his statement when Ryan made a noise of disagreement. "Okay, he hasn't been violent to us—objects haven't been as lucky. But so what if he blows off some steam that way."

"Ah, come on Alvarez. You know this ain't fucking blowing off steam."

"I'm just saying I don't think we're at the point yet of cutting him loose. Let's give Keller more time."

"Fine." Ryan shook his head and walked off.

Mukada stared at Miguel, who said nothing before turning to follow Ryan. He realized his hands were shaking as he started walking. Would Miguel really leave Beecher behind if this didn't change? Yes, he would.

_Forgive me, Father, for the error of my thoughts. Please, hear me. I've lost my way. I need your hand to guide me back to the path._

There was no epiphany, just the silence of a store that would never again see a customer.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sweat poured down his face and with each step he felt as if his backpack was a large boulder slowly crushing him. The weight hadn't seemed so heavy at the start of the day, but now his legs shook and fatigue made him want to allow his knees to crumple, so he could give in and fall prone to the ground. Instead Mukada somehow kept going, his feet seeming to move without instruction from his mind.

The houses were further apart out this way—large homes with huge tracts of lands. Unfortunately the violence was just as pronounced as it had been in the suburbs on the outskirts of the city. Many of the houses they walked past had severe fire damage, and some were only ghosts of their former selves, burnt out skeletal remains. There was so much fire damage that Mukada wondered how the final days had played out here. Did they try to fight with fire? Had someone thought they could cleanse the land by burning out the evil? If so, the exorcism didn't work. As he stumbled along the road, eyes going bleary, the emptiness seemed weighted, as if the taint of what had happened was too great to dissipate.

He wasn't sure how many hours he'd walked when they stumbled upon the group of people camped out in front of a house that had seen fire damage but was still standing. Mukada blinked as if the people were some sort of mirage brought on by heat exhaustion. The others in his company had no delay in reaction as he heard the sounds of guns being brought to ready. The people on the lawn were armed as well.

There were two men with dark brown hair and similar enough features that Mukada assumed they were related. An Asian looking women stepped in front of a blond boy, who appeared to be around six or seven. She held the gun with confidence, and her expression was cool. For a few minutes there was silence. It was almost as if they'd forgotten how to converse with strangers.

Mukada decided it was time to see if he could defuse the situation. He held out his hands, palms up, to emphasize he was unarmed. "We don't mean any harm. We're just traveling through. I'm Father Ray Mukada."

"Father? Are you a priest?" The taller of the two men asked.

"Yes."

"And the others?"

"Survivors," Ryan said.

Miguel elaborated when Ryan's answer was met with growing distrust. "We were mechanics."

Mukada didn't correct the lie nor did he feel the slightest inclination to do so. The truth would not engender trust.

Beecher laughed. "Once upon a time, I was a lawyer." The laughter stopped, and his expression turned serious. "And a father." He lowered his gun.

The tall man swallowed, some of the coldness leaving his face. He met Beecher's gaze, and the two men stared at each other for a minute. Mukada wasn't sure what the other man saw in Tobias's gaze, but it must have convinced him that they weren't a threat as he sighed and lowered his gun. "I'm Antun, Father."

Miguel lowered his weapon. After a pause Ryan and Keller did so as well, and the woman and other man followed suit. Mukada breathed a sigh of relief.

"This is my wife Nishiyo and my brother Petar." Antun held out his hand and the boy walked over to his side. "And this is Jake. He's the son of a good friend of mine."

There was no need to ask what had become of that friend.

"Hi Jake. I'm Toby." Beecher held out his hand.

Jake glanced up at Antun and then shook the extended hand. "Hi."

"Ryan."

"Chris."

"Miguel."

"Well, Toby, once upon a time I was a physicist, theoretical. Nishiyo, a geneticist, and Petar a stockbroker. I suppose those will one day be words that fade out of our vocabulary."

"Ryan, I think you had it right," Nishiyo said. "We're all survivors now." She had a strong, clear voice. "But we shouldn't put aside everything we once knew. Let us remember our hospitality. Won't you join us for a meal."

Mukada noticed that Petar had yet to say anything and the looks he gave Antun seemed to be nervous ones.

"My wife is right, accept our apologies for the way we greeted you, and please join us for a meal."

"You can't be too careful these days." Petar's voice was so soft that Mukada could barely hear the words. He sounded almost as if he was talking to himself. "People you've known all your lives turn into something else."

For a second it seemed Antun looked angry, but that faded to an expression of general weariness with which Mukada was very familiar. "Yes, we've all had our lives turned upside down, so that's all the more reason to share a bit of normalcy. Again, my apologies for the initial lack of welcome."

Keller shrugged. "Ain't no need to apologize. Trust me, we get it."

"Yes, we do." Mukada smiled. "And we'd be happy to share a meal with you, as long as it isn't a hardship on you."

"It's no hardship. We have a few vegetables we salvaged. They won't last, so we should enjoy them, and we'd welcome the company."

Nishiyo indicated for them to follow her. Off to the side of the house were two large tents and some patio furniture that had seen better days. Duct tape made a frequent appearance on the legs of the chairs. Further back was a bunch of cinder blocks that judging from the blissful scent of cooking seemed to serve as a fire pit.

"Unfortunately the kitchen wasn't one of the areas that survived the fire, so we've had to improvise." Nishiyo waved her hand toward the pit.

"At first, the novelty was a welcome distraction, but now that it's sunk in this is a permanent lifestyle." Petar shrugged. "Let's just say we miss the kitchen." He spoke as he walked past them to the pit where he began working. Mukada noticed he met none of their gazes as he passed.

"I know this is kind of an understatement, but it looks like you had a lot of problems with fire here," Ryan said.

"Yes." Nishiyo sighed. "But please sit, and then we can exchange stories."

Antun had brought around some folding chairs and the group with the exception of Petar took seats, arranging their chairs in an uneven circle. It was he who took up the tale once they were seated. "I would say fear trumped science." Antun sounded bitter. "People stopped listening to reason. Despite all the information the public had been given that this was a mutation, our neighbors chose to believe this was a zombie apocalypse—that the dead would not remain dead unless you burned their bodies."

"Mob mentality took over." Beecher looked grim.

"Yes," Nishiyo said. "But it's not surprising. What reason did people have to trust any information by the government? The conclusion may have been questionable, but their doubt was not."

"But if they had used their reason, maybe we could have...." Antun's voice had risen before he cut himself off and took a deep breath. "I apologize. I spoke against the wide scale fires they were setting, and my inability to stop avoidable disaster still weighs heavily on me. Many who lost their lives here died from the fires not the mutation."

"You don't need to apologize," Mukada said. "I can only imagine how upsetting that was." And he also couldn't help wondering how being unable to stop the madness affected someone like Antun. Something was off with the man, but he couldn't pinpoint what. He wasn't telling them the whole truth about something, at least not yet.

"Thank you. With no active fire department, putting out blazes once they began was no easy task. Fire respects no master."

"It jumped from house to house, didn't it?" Ryan indicated their house with his hand. "Is that what happened to yours?"

"Yes, we were victims of small minded ignorance." Scorn laced each of Antun's words.

Mukada noticed that Petar had looked up from his spot at the cooking pit and was now staring at his brother. After a minute with a shake of his head, he returned to his task. A sense of unease filled Mukada, which bothered him because on one hand he genuinely liked these people. They seemed like good people, and meeting someone new was a refreshing, hopeful experience. So why was he ruining that experience? When he turned his gaze back to those seated, he found that Keller was starting in Petar's direction, a cold, speculative expression on his face. Mukada didn't know if it made him feel better or worse that Keller might share his unease.

Dinner was a simple meal, but after spending weeks foraging amongst can goods, it tasted amazing. The compliments given to his cooking seemed to warm Petar up, as he was more engaged as they ate, participating in the conversation. Mukada decided the man was probably just naturally reserved. A sense of contentment filled him. It was such a blissful feeling that he found he had no space for doubt. He offered up his thanks to God for the gift.

After they had finished cleaning up, the boy wandered over to Keller. "Cool tattoo," he said, and then looked down, his blond hair falling into his eye as he kicked at the dirt.

Mukada realized the boy hadn't said a single word during dinner. He'd been so quiet, Mukada had barely noticed him. His heart ached for a child growing up in this world with no other children to play with. A chill went down his spine as he watched Keller smile at the boy. For the first time, he regretted going along with the lie his companions had told about their previous lines of work. Had he brought trouble to these honest people?

"Thanks. It's Jake, right? Have a seat." Keller touched the chair next to him. "You can touch it if you want."

Jake sat on the chair, his legs dangling as he leaned over and with his index finger gently traced the outline of the tattoo.

_What a surreal moment_, Mukada thought as he watched this innocent child worshipfully explore the tattoo of Christ's crucifixion on the arm of a convict.

"Thanks." Jake smiled as he put his hand back in his lap.

"No problem." Keller ruffled the boy's hair, and the kid laughed.

"Have you seen a lot of other people?"

Keller didn't answer right away and when he did his voice was softer than Mukada had ever heard it. "Not a lot, no, but some."

"Oh, since you said you came from the city, I thought maybe you'd seen more. What about comic book stores?"

"You like comics?"

"Oh yeah."

"Me too." Keller leaned in. "They've got the best stories. We did see a few stores."

Jake looked hopeful at that response. "My comics burned when my house did. I miss reading them, you know."

Keller looked up as Beecher came closer. "Yeah, I know. But I bet you'll end up with some new ones at some point."

"Sure." Jake didn't looked convinced. "I've been drawing my own. Do you want to see them?"

"You bet. Let's see what you got."

Jake bolted off the chair running at high speed for one of the tents.

Nishiyo laughed. "You've made his day."

When Jake returned, Ryan and Miguel drew near as well to see his drawings. Mukada peeked over their shoulders and was impressed. The child obviously had talent. After a second, Mukada took a few steps back so he could watch everyone. Nishiyo, Antun and Petar had crowded around as well, and there was a lot of animated talk about the comics with Jake explaining his storylines. Beecher sat very close to Keller, and he had a smile on his face. While there was a touch of sadness to the smile, it didn't have that feral off quality it so frequently had. He saw Miguel reach out for a second and touch Ryan's hand. Ryan squeezed it before letting go with a smile.

Mukada felt humbled. God hadn't deserted him. He was right here showing him that as long as you breathe, there is hope. It was God's will that he and the others should survive, and what arrogance is it that he would judge God's will or those God chose to make this journey with him. For the first time in weeks, he felt that inner peace was once again an attainable goal. He quietly walked away wanting a moment of solitude to pray so that he could offer God his thanks and ask for forgiveness.

Laughter filled the air as he approached a shed. The sound unknotted an ache in his chest that had seemed to be a permanent companion. It was a good day.

Something grabbed his ankle, a sharp and painful hold that threw off his balance and had him falling into the dirt. His hands scrambled for purchase but found none. He was being dragged toward the shed, no beneath it—as if a demon were dragging him to Hell. Mukada yelled, but he was sure it would be too late, as he already felt the pressure of teeth cutting through his pants and into the skin of his calf. There was no time for prayer, no final last appeal to God. Mind and body were one in the single focus to fight for survival. His last experience on earth would be marked by panicked desperation.

Reprieve came from an unexpected source. Hands roughly grabbed his shoulders, stopping his downward descent. He looked up, his gaze obstructed by his awkward position and the body of the person who might just be his salvation. His savior was Chris Keller. Mukada glimpsed determination in the hard set of Keller's chin, and then he was being dragged forward with such force that it fell like his shoulder was being ripped out of his socket. He didn't care. Keller could break his bones, do whatever was necessary, as long as it got him away from that thing.

_Please, God, don't let me die like this. Not like this._

It lost its grip on his calf, and with his legs free and on solid ground, Mukada managed to get to his hands and knees. His arms burned as Keller released him. He took a deep breath, blessed air filling his burning lungs, but the respite was short lived. Mukada was shoved sideways, rolling awkwardly before he once again came to his hands and feet. Keller was standing in front of him, serving as a barrier as the thing slithered out of the ground and launched itself forward. Keller had raised his gun, but he had no time to shoot as it connected with his side.

As Keller brought up his elbow and jammed it hard into the thing's face, Mukada got a glimpse of features that had once belonged to a young girl but now were warped by a terrifying hunger into this abomination. He desperately looked around for something to use to assist Keller, but nothing was at hand.

"Get the fuck out of my line of fire," Ryan yelled.

With an enraged shout, Keller shoved his whole body into the mutant. Coordination not its strong point, the mutant tumbled backward from the force of it. Keller was moving in a flash, diving into Mukada and dragging them both away and down to the ground.

He swore it was Beecher who fired the first shot, his face a mask of hatred, but he couldn't be sure as he instantly followed Keller's order to, "Keep your fucking head down."

It seemed like the shots went on forever. Even after they stopped, his ears still rung with their echo. What he heard next made him wish for the gunfire to return. A scream filled with such anger and despair. "Shiomi." He'd once heard Beecher make that sound.

Miguel had tackled Antun to the ground, kicking his gun away. The man struggled violently. "No. Shiomi!"

Keller helped him to his feet. "You all right, Father?"

"Yes, thanks to you." Mukada's eyes widen as he realized there was blood soaking through the side of Keller's shirt. "I think the question should be are you okay?"

"Me." Keller gave him his devil may care grin. "I'm fine. Ain't no zombie gonna keep me down." He bent down and retrieved his rifle, which had fallen when he had fought with the mutant.

"Chris." Beecher's voice shook. His rifle was held loosely in his hand.

"It's fine, Beech. Just a flesh wound."

Beecher snorted and looked as if he was about to make a smart comeback, but then Mukada noticed his expression shift to something deadly. _Oh please, no. What now? _

"You fucking knew that thing was down there. Didn't you?" Ryan knelt down in front of Antun. Miguel now had full control with the man's arms firmly restrained behind his back.

As one, Beecher and Keller moved in the direction of the chaos, rifles ready. Mukada noticed that Petar had his gun leveled in Miguel and Ryan's direction.

"Murderers!" Antun spat. "We could have cured her."

"Fucking insane." Ryan stood smoothly. "There ain't no cure." He raised his gun so it covered Nishiyo, who had yet to reach for a weapon.

She put her hands out palms up. "Please." Her gaze remained fixed on Ryan. "There's been enough violence. Petar."

"He's still my brother. I won't let them kill him." Tears ran down Petar's face, but the gun remained firm in his grip.

Nishiyo indicated her husband. "May I? You can see I have no weapon."

Ryan looked wary, but just as Mukada was about to weigh in to let her proceed, he nodded.

She knelt before her husband. For a second she looked at Miguel before completely focusing on the man before her. "Antun." She cupped his chin. "It's over. You need to let go."

"How can you be so calm? They took her from us. You were so close to curing Shiomi."

Nishiyo removed her hand from his face and bowed her head. "No, there is no cure. Our Shiomi was lost to us the moment the mutation began. Every morning, I've prayed that today would be the day you would understand that truth and let her go. What happened today was a mercy."

Antun started to struggle again in Miguel's grip. "How can you say that? She's our daughter!"

"She was our daughter!" Tears ran down Nishiyo's face. "How do you think I felt having to watch day in and day out the thing that had killed her? I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped giving it the shot last week. I decided to allow the mutation to reach its final course."

"You were going to kill her?"

"No, I was going to let it die."

Mukada watched the fight go out of Antun.

Nishiyo looked up. "Petar, please put the gun down." She looked at Mukada. "I'm so sorry you got dragged into our misery. And I regret that we put you in danger, but please understand. We loved our daughter dearly, and my husband just couldn't let go."

"I understand." Mukada wished there was something he could do to soothe the misery before him. He would pray for all them to find a path through this seemingly endless valley of sorrow.

Petar lowered his gun. With a nod toward Ryan, Miguel released Antun, who curled in on himself as Nishiyo huddled over him. It was obvious he was no longer a threat. Ryan and Keller lowered their guns as well.

"Please, don't hurt them."

Mukada turned in surprise toward the young voice that shook. He'd forgotten about Jake. The boy was sobbing and staring in horror—at Beecher. Mukada's heart almost stopped when he realized unlike the others, Beecher had not lowered his rifle and appeared unmoved by what had played out before him. In fact, he looked like he intended to shoot anyway.

_No. _

"Toby." Keller spoke in a soft tone. "Hey, come on put down then gun. Let's just go." Beecher didn't move or make any acknowledgment that he heard.

Keller's jaw tightened, and he moved forward slowly. Mukada's eyes widened as he realized that Keller was putting himself in position to possibly disarm Beecher. He was sticking himself right in the line of fire.

"Come on, don't do this in front of the kid. He's already seen too much. That ain't something you want on your conscience."

Beecher's breath hitched. The rifle shook for a moment, and then he released his finger from the trigger and lowered it. He turned to Keller and touched his side lightly, fingers coming away bloody.

Keller took Beecher's hand and wiped the blood off on his pants. "I'm fine. But if it makes you feel better, let's get out of here and you can play doctor. I can be a very good patient." He smirked.

Beecher laughed, although it sounded shaky, but he let Keller lead him away to gather up their backpacks.

Jake ran over to Antun and Nishiyo. Dropping to his knees, he touched Antun's arm. "I'm sorry Shiomi had to die like my parents."

Antun sobbed and wrapped the boy in his arms. Nishiyo kept an arm around her husband and Petar joined the group on the ground.

Miguel came over to Mukada. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Then let's get out of here." Ryan shook his head, and the three of them joined Beecher and Keller in gathering their few possessions.

As they left, Mukada made one backward glance at the huddle of misery that seemed to blend into the world's current landscape. He tried to remind himself that all those tested had moments of doubt. It was what it meant to be human. But he wondered if he had the strength to survive something of this biblical proportion. The brief peace he'd been granted earlier was once again crowded out by a plaintive question. _Why, God, why?_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The skies darkened, and the rain came down in bruising torrents. It was a cruel and unnecessary physical representation of the misery that churned inside Mukada's brain. Every once in a while Beecher would shout over the rain to Keller, wanting to check on the cuts on his side, and each time Keller assured him he was fine, but that they needed to keep moving and find some shelter. No one else attempted conversation.

They trudged on wet and miserable for hours. Angry, ominous clouds eventually were obscured by the fall of darkness, but still the rain fell. Eyes on the ground, counting each of his footsteps, Mukada at first didn't notice the change in landscape. His head jerked up in surprise as he heard Ryan's voice.

"Oh yeah, come on Lady Luck, an actual block of houses still fucking standing."

Mukada wiped the rain out of his eyes, thinking he was seeing things, but the vision remained. Before them illuminated by streetlights was a block of houses that from this distance appeared undamaged.

"Man, if ever we could use some of your so called Irish luck, it's now. Otherwise we may have to see if we can get some tents setup in this." Miguel sounded tired.

Ryan tapped him on the shoulder. "So called? Trust me Lady Luck is smiling on me right now. Time to get out of the damn storm into some real shelter, because no tent is standing up to this." He hurried forward reenergized.

Mukada noticed the others like him were still moving tiredly. As much as he wanted out of the rain, he couldn't summon the energy for hope. They approached the nearest house, which was a huge Victorian with a wrap around porch. As they stepped up the stairs and out of the rain, Mukada noticed the black marking of the National Guard at the top of the stairs. The front windows had several cracks, but the glass was still in place with no gaping holes. While the house had seen some violence, from the outside at least, it looked to be of a limited scope.

For once what appeared to be was in fact the case, as the interior too showed limited violence. A few broken mirrors littered the floor, and furniture was turned over or broken in several spots, but otherwise the place was in decent shape and deserted—neither the living nor the dead haunted its grounds.

They broke routine that night, as when Ryan said, "Let's hope the next house is in as good shape," and started to the door, Keller stopped him.

"It don't matter. Might as well all stay here. Place is big enough for an army. I don't know about you, but I ain't got no desire to go back into that goddamn rain."

"Right there with you K-boy. One castle for all." Ryan knocked fists with Keller.

Mukada realized he was glad they'd decided to stay together. It was safer that way. Perhaps the others felt the same as there seemed to be almost a feeling of camaraderie. For once, the thought of having Keller sleeping under the same roof as him didn't frighten him. Although he wondered how much sleeping he'd actually be doing tonight.

As they took their leave of each other for the night, Mukada noticed Ryan's cold stare as Beecher led Keller to a room on the third floor.

Miguel sighed. "Come on, O'Reily. Ain't we had enough trouble for one day?"

"I'm not starting trouble."

"Nah, course not. You're just trying to anticipate it and figure out your master plan. Shit man, don't you ever learn? All our planning, it's pointless." Miguel shrugged. "You just got to take each day as it comes. Why you gotta worry about tomorrow? It'll get here when it gets here."

"How fucking Zen of you. So what making our way to the country, that's stupid? You know what Alvarez, don't do me any favors humoring me. Because if it wasn't for my planning, we'd be dead several times over. Zen don't keep you alive."

"I ain't talking about that type of planning, and you know it." Miguel shook his head. "I'm too tired for this shit. I'm going to bed. You good, Father?"

"I'm fine, Miguel. Good night."

Ryan's fists were clenched as he watched Miguel walk down the corridor. "I ain't borrowing trouble. The shit's already found us."

"I know. You're worried."

"Exactly, Father. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame Beecher for wanting to shoot that bastard for keeping one of those damn zombies alive."

"It's a horrible thing to lose a child. I don't think those of us who haven't experienced such a horror can even begin to understand the pain. I would imagine Miguel might have some sympathy for Beecher, having lost his own son."

"Maybe." Ryan gave Mukada a sharp look. "And yet Beecher had no sympathy for Antun. Would have shot the fucker if Keller hadn't stepped in."

_Because he couldn't stand the thought of losing the only thing left that he loves—Chris Keller._

"I know you think you know Beecher, Father, but you don't. No offense, not sure you ever did, not the Beecher who lived inside with us. But now I ain't so sure any of us knows him."

_Keller does. _Mukada was positive that whatever was going on with Beecher, Keller understood, but the question was could he lead Beecher through that darkness. He had no answer to that question. "Ryan, at this point, I don't know anything, except it's been a long day, and we're all exhausted."

"Right, worry about tomorrow, tomorrow." Ryan shook his head.

"He had a point."

"Whatever. You got a room picked out."

"Yes, two doors down. I may need to draw a map just to find my way around. The room is huge." Mukada laughed, hoping that his pathetic joke might lighten the tension.

Ryan's return chuckle was half-hearted, but Mukada appreciated his willingness to let things go for now. "Yeah, they'd been living the high life here. 'Night Father."

"Good night, Ryan."

The night was neither good nor bad. It took a while for Mukada to fall asleep as the day's events kept flashing through his mind, but eventually exhaustion took over and granted him the oblivion of sleep. When he woke, he didn't bother remaining in bed and allowing his mind leave to replay what should be left in the past. He knelt on the hardwood floor and prayed. His knees ached, but strangely that discomfort helped him reach a state where he could open up his heart to his Father.

When he ventured downstairs, he felt calm if not quite at peace. He found Keller standing next to one of the bay windows watching the sunrise. "Good morning, Chris."

"Hey, Father."

Mukada noticed the dark circles beneath Keller's eyes. He looked exhausted. Had he slept at all last night? "I wanted to thank you again."

Keller shrugged. "No problem." He moved his gaze back to the window, staring as if the solution to some problem could be found just outside the door. "I hope that kid finds a comic book at some point. Ya know?"

Once again, Keller had surprised him. He wouldn't have expected Jake to still be on his mind. "Yeah, I know. I hope he does too." Mukada swallowed and asked a question he'd been pondering. "How did you know to follow me?"

There was a self-deprecating twist to Keller's lips as he responded. "I'm a con man, Father. I made a living out of reading people and screwing them over."

Mukada kept his expression neutral, waiting for Keller to continue.

"His body language and behavior sent a message loud and clear—he had something he was desperate to hide. And it was eatin' him up. He wasn't someone used to lying. Back in the day, he would have been an easy mark." Keller smirked, and when Mukada only nodded, he continued. "Any who, I saw you get up and head toward the shed, and I saw Petar's eyes grow huge, and he shuddered. So I figured, let me follow you and find out what the fuck it was our friend was so concerned you might discover behind the shed."

Keller often played dumb, but he was far from it. Mukada figured that was his greatest con, masking his razor sharp intelligence so that he'd be underestimated. "Well, I'm very glad you decided to follow me."

"You expected me to let it have you, didn't you?"

Mukada blanched. Yes, that would have been his expectation. "I'm sorry."

"What for? Story of my life. You ain't the first to think I'm dirt. Ain't like I haven't give you reason. But, hey, what's done is done. After all, I've forgiven you for not giving me fucking penance to save me from Hell." Keller grinned. "See the way I figure, I know what horrible things I did to end up walking this Hell. But the thing is I gotta wonder what did you do to piss off the man upstairs, because you're right here with me."

"You have a point." Although he would bet Keller figured his sin was something far more entertaining than what he believed it to be—pride cometh before the fall.

Keller's grin faded, and he looked at Mukada with an intensity that both scared and fascinated the priest. Whatever he was about to say, he really wanted to be believed.

"In case you haven't noticed, Father, the numbers out here ain't so great. And as they say, the devil you know is better than the devil you don't. Our not so merry band here is all we've got. The past don't matter no more. So if we don't have each other's backs, well...." He shrugged, hands extended and palms upward.

Mukada stared. Chris Keller had just reminded him about the importance of being a supportive member of a group dynamic. He'd just gotten a lesson in being a team player.

Keller tapped him on the shoulder. "Whoo, I'm glad we cleared all that up."

He couldn't help it, Mukada laughed. "Me too." He paused and then asked, "How's Tobias?"

"He'll be fine." Keller's expression turned to stone.

"That's good."

"You know, I used to dream about being on the outside with Beecher. I'd get a hotel room with the biggest fucking bed, and we'd fuck all night. I'd hear him call my name. Let him do me in the shower."

"Sounds like a good time. "

"Whoa." Keller's eyes widened and his grin returned. "I knew you had to think about fucking some of the time. What no lecture?"

"Did I ever lecture you on your love for Tobias? The way you look out for him is one of the few decent things left in this world."

Keller nodded. "World's really gone to Hell, hasn't it?" He rubbed his chin. "Father, Toby ain't fine."

"I know."

"Can you help him?"

"I've tried." Even as he said the words, Mukada wondered at their validity. Had he really tried? Or had he been too locked in his own fear and trauma to make more than a cursory effort.

"Try again. Come on I'm begging ya. I know O'Reily is about at the end of his fucking rope with Beecher's shit. But he don't understand. It was his kids, you know. I don't want him ending up like that guy. Horribly broken."

Mukada thought there was a part of Keller denying the reality in front him. Something in Beecher was already horribly broken. But that didn't mean he couldn't be healed—if he wanted to be.

Keller continued his entreaty. "Besides, we need him. We need that fucking brain of his. Soon there won't be any computers to look shit up. All we got is what we know, so that makes someone like Beecher valuable. Really valuable."

"Every one is valuable." Mukada was confused by Keller's shift in argument. It didn't seem targeted toward him, which was very unlike Keller. Then it dawned on him, he was hearing the argument Keller had made to Ryan. Keller truly was desperate pulling up any and every argument.

Keller's universe revolved around Beecher, which was not new information, but that fact seemed to trigger an acceptance that had been eluding Mukada. Miguel's voice echoed in his head. _You're not alone._.. _for what it's worth, I've got your back_. Those words faded into Keller's from a few moment's ago. _Our not so merry band here is all we've got... So if we don't have each other's backs...._

His fears were a waste of energy. He'd given them too much power. He wasn't alone, and he was needed. If they were going to survive, they all needed to pull their own weight. Yesterday, he'd berated himself for the arrogance of questioning those God chose to make this journey with him, but he'd still been missing the point. He shared a bond with these men with whom he'd battled nightmare after nightmare scenario, perhaps even a sense of brotherhood.

Hope filled him, and Mukada allowed himself to admit that he wanted to survive. He wanted to see Miguel's country dream and laugh at Ryan milking a cow. And he didn't want to see anyone left behind on this journey.

"I'll try again, and I'll keep trying," Mukada said. "You have my word."

"Cool." Keller smiled, and Mukada saw the relief in it. "Way I figure, after all this, no way are we going down."

Mukada met Keller's gaze and smiled. "Amen."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
